Enid had never felt ugly.
Sure, sometimes she felt unhappy with the way some of her makeup looked. Or she thought there was something off with her outfit, but she’d never felt anything worse than mild discontent.
She had felt like a disappointment, like a waste of space.
She had felt useless and weak.
Like an inferior. A freak. A lone wolf.
But ugly? Never.
Unlike every other aspect of her life, her mother hadn’t been able to dig her claws into Enid’s appearance and dictate what she should look like as if her life depended on whether she wore skirts or trousers, pink or red.
Enid dyed her hair whatever colours she wanted, she tamed it, so it didn’t resemble the usual unruly and unkempt hair of her brothers. She wore bright makeup. She wore clothes Esther Sinclair would most definitely throw one of her notorious tantrums over.
She had felt beautiful when Wednesday opened up to her under the glow of the moonlight.
She had felt beautiful when she won the Poe Cup.
She felt beautiful when she finally admitted her feelings for Wednesday, and when Wednesday reciprocated them – albeit in a calmer, composed manner.
But after the fight with the Hyde, and after Wednesday had sat with her in the infirmary, their hands clasped together the entire time, Enid could hardly stand to look at herself in the mirror, yet when she did, she couldn’t, for the life of her, tear her eyes off of her reflection.
This was one of those times.
The blonde was scrubbing at her face as if she scrubbed just hard enough the jagged lines would disappear. Of course, she knew that wasn’t possible, but she just wanted – no, needed – them gone.
After a few more seconds of ferociously scrubbing at her skin, Enid sank onto the cold bathroom floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest as her body was hit with wave after wave of sobs. These days it felt as if her tears were never-ending.
She knew they shouldn’t change how she felt about herself. But everyone was always staring. On her way to class, people stopped in the hallways to catch a glimpse of her scars, the normies in Jericho scringed when they saw them. Fuck, even Wednesday could hardly look at her without her eyes constantly being drawn to hideous lines.
She had tried to hide them. She really had. She had started parting her hair differently so more hair fell on that side of her face, her makeup had changed ever so slightly, and she never tilted her head far enough that people would be able to see them.
the werewolf knew what everyone was thinking.
That she was a failure, she was ugly, worthless, stupid, and weak.
She was so, so tired.
---
The sound of Wednesday’s typewriter was the only noise filling the room. Instead of a grounded feeling invading Enid’s chest at the sound of the tapping keys, it felt as if they were hallowing her out. Slowly cracking away at the composed exterior she had been wearing ever since – that night.
What if I hadn’t been fast enough?
What if I didn’t wolf out?
Is Tyler gone? Thornhill?
Wednesday almost died because I was too slow.
Does she think my scars show that I wasn’t strong enough to beat the Hyde?
Is she ashamed? Embarrassed?
Enid placed a hand over her face, cringing at the way her fingertips grazed the raised skin of her scars, the smooth skin being replaced by the reminder that she could have failed Wednesday.
God, she’s only with you out of pity at this point.
Her mother's words ran around her mind, “she’s an Addams, Enid, she will get bored of the misfit werewolf and leave.” “Look what you’ve gone and done to that pretty face of yours, we can get it fixed. We can get you looking normal again.”
From across the room, Wednesday could hear the way Enid’s breathing started to get more erratic, the muffled whimper that left the girl's mouth every few seconds.
Stalking towards the bed, Wednesday gently placed a hand on top of the one Enid had on her face, slowly tugging it down, not missing the way Enid tensed slightly as she felt her hand run across the rough lines, leaving them exposed to be scrutinised by Wednesday as her mother had done countless times already.
“Enid? What is it, did someone upset you? Give me a name. Give me a name and I’ll make sure they regret being born.”
Enid opened her eyes, teary blue met a murderous brown.
“Do – do you think I’m ugly?”
It was as if time stood still as if even atoms were afraid to move at the way Wednesday was flooded with a white-hot rage that made her head pound, her fingers itching to latch onto the sharpest blade she owned. To carve into the body of whoever had made her kind, bubbly girlfriend this way. She wouldn’t kill them, no, she’d keep them alive as long as she could. putting them through the worst pains imaginable.
Through gritted teeth, the seething girl forced out the few words she could. “Who would make you think such a thing?”
The werewolf reached out a tentative hand and held onto Wednesday’s cold hand again, tugging her down onto the bed until their knees knocked against each other.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just … I know that I look different now. Compared to how I did when we, you know … started dating. And I understand attraction is important,” exhaling steadily, Enid steeled herself for the worst. “Look, I know my scars aren’t pretty to look at, and I know that they bother you, I see you staring at them all the time. So, I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I won’t hate you for it, Willa, it’s okay.”
The rage that usually fuelled Wednesday’s body dissipated at Enid’s words rushed out of her mouth, she was refusing to meet Wednesday’s gaze, and her usually iron-clad grip on Wednesday’s hand is reduced to a light hold as if she was giving Wednesday the choice to leave as if she had been kept prisoner.
Prisoner? Wednesday? please.
Raising her free hand, Wednesday gently moved the hair covering Enid’s scars behind her ear, letting her fingers trace the rough skin.
Upon the contact, Enid’s eyes rose to meet Wednesday’s, subconsciously leaning into the caring touch.
If Enid wasn’t so devastatingly heartbroken, she would have teased the gothic girl at how utterly dumbfounded she looked.
“My love, I don’t know what you mean. You are the most ethereal person I have ever met. Every time I see your scars I am reminded of how courageous and how powerful you were when you fought the Hyde. I am reminded of how you sacrificed your very life to save mine, that you were prepared to dive into a bloody battle to save me,” Wednesday placed a soft kiss on one of the lines across the girl's face. “Your scars do not change your beauty, you take my breath away just as violently and mercilessly as you did on the very first day I laid my eyes upon you. I would move mountains just to be able to see your face, to see you smile and cry, for a singular second.”
Tears were streaming down Enid’s face, her heart hammering in her chest as Wednesday smiled at her. The werewolf pushed herself forward, connecting their lips in a searing kiss.
“Enid…” Wednesday sighed as they pulled apart.
“I love you, Wednesday.”
“And I love you, mi sol. Always, no matter what.”
---
And of course, in true Wednesday fashion, whoever stared at Enid’s scars for a beat too long would later be met with a knife to the throat and some very colourful choice of words.
And so what if Enid then spent most of her holidays at the Addams mansion? Wednesday would, and already has denied any suggestions that she had invited Enid for the blonde’s benefit.
Well, she had, in a way. But it was more so because Wednesday knew Enid wouldn’t be overly pleased with her if she attacked her mother. If she made her hurt as she had made Enid hurt.
Wednesday? Thrilled. Ecstatic, even. Enid? Not so much. Not that she would admit it thus far anyway.